Believe
by ArtisticRainey
Summary: The night air was crisp, and each breath was like a soft crackle of electricity through the stillness around him. John adjusted the angle of the telescope, his gloved fingers working with delicate perfectionism to move it just a small amount.


**Title:** Believe

**Author:** ArtisticRainey

**Disclaimer:** _Thunderbirds_, and any of the characters mentioned within this piece of writing, are not mine. This story was written for entertainment purposes, and no money has, or will be, made from it.

**Notes:** Written for Rathead through the Tracy Island Writers Forum 'Great October Fic Swap'. Her request was: "**One of the guys -- doesn't matter which -- encounters a UFO. Or what they think is a UFO."**

---

_No one will ever believe me. No matter who I've told, or how open-minded anyone has been, not one person has believed me. 'You hit your head really badly when you fell. You're probably just imagining you saw it.' _

_But I know what I saw. I _know_ what I saw. And nothing will ever change that._

_---_

Technically, John Tracy was _not_ supposed to be on the roof. Climbing onto the roof was high up on his father's List of Things You Boys Aren't Allowed To Do. So, naturally, John was on the roof. He was sixteen; did his father think any of them actually listened to him?

It was by no means the only time he had ever climbed up there. His room was above the kitchen, with a small, gently sloping piece of roof just below the window. It was easy to climb out there, and with the sturdy grips on the feet of his telescope's tripod, it made the perfect spot for unhindered stargazing. The window was at the back of the house, looking out onto a sweeping expanse of, well, nothing much, just fields. None of the neighbours could see him and squeal, and his father's bedroom was on the very other side of the house. His plan had worked many times before, and it would continue to work, as far as he saw, until someone ratted him out. And that was something that didn't seem likely.

So he was on the roof with his trusty telescope, watching the clear night sky, well bundled up against the cold. It was November, and the temperatures were already dipping down; he didn't want to get pneumonia, because _that_ would be difficult to explain. He wore his well-gripped winter boots -- the ground could get _very_ slippery when the ground froze up, even if there was no snow -- and was braced firmly in place. All was well. He would be able to stargaze in peace for a few hours, without younger brothers trying to look and touch. Their sheer destructive power was almost palpable whenever any of them came within a few metres of his bedroom door. He was also safe from his father, who, while his intentions were good, irritated John to no end with his constant meddling and fixing. No, do it _this_ way son. That's the way it should be. Well, it may have been the way _Jeff_ Tracy did it, but it wasn't the way _John_ Tracy did. Period.

The night air was crisp, and each breath was like a soft crackle of electricity through the stillness around him. John adjusted the angle of the telescope, his gloved fingers working with delicate perfectionism to move it just a small amount. It was almost silent at -- he checked his watch -- two in the morning. The slight breeze blowing sifted through the surviving leaves like the gentlest of fingers, and the sound of the quiet rustling drifted on the winds. John adjusted the angle once more; the mechanism moved with a hushed squeak.

He wasn't looking for anything in particular; no, he was just observing. There was nothing like being alone with the stars, just looking. His imagination worked overtime as he thought about the wonders that were out there, and that one day, he knew, he would be observing first-hand. Ever since he was a small boy, he had been fascinated by his father's work. The thought of doing what his dad had done, lifting off from earth in a spaceship like a phoenix rising gracefully in a blast of fire and light, to break through into space, that never-ending expanse of possibilities, to orbit the earth in a spaceship, or to set foot on the moon, looking in wonder at the planet he had been born on... Every time he thought about getting out there into space, the place he longed to visit the most, a huge smile spread across his features. John removed his eye from the telescope's eyepiece and stared at the sky unaided for a few moments. It would be a wonderful place; he knew, one day, he would get there.

The telescope squeaked again -- he would have to oil the moving parts -- and John focused in on a particularly bright star. Another gust of wind, stronger than before, blew against his side. A shiver travelled through him, and he glanced at his watch again. He would have to clamber back in soon; in spite of his layers of clothing, apparently he could still get cold. But not yet: he would savour as much of this time he had alone with the stars for as long as he could.

While John loved the night sky, and loved the idea of getting out there and exploring the galaxy, he had never been one to believe in UFOs. No, any story that he heard on the news or read in the paper was immediately disregarded. It didn't mean that he doubted the existence of aliens. It was illogical, in his opinion, to presume humans were the only sentient species in the whole of the universe. But little green men in silver suits, visiting people in their flying saucers and abducting them? Nope, that was something John Tracy did not believe in. _'Even if there are aliens out there,'_ he thought, _'I bet they wouldn't touch our planet with a ten foot pole.'_

His entire family knew of his total disregard of UFO sightings, crop circles, and abductions. No, he had made it very clear that he did not believe in them. They made good fiction -- he was never one to turn away a sci-fi novel or comic book -- but not good fact. And until he saw something himself, he would never believe it. Since he knew he never would -- they didn't exist, and that was that -- everything was fine. John raised his bare eyes to the sky for another moment and swept some blond hair back from his face. Clouds were beginning to creep in from the southwest; yes, it was time to pack up. He sighed, having hoped to stay out a little longer, but he knew it was for the best. He glanced through the eyepiece once more, before beginning to disassemble the telescope for easier -- and quieter -- transfer through the window. It would be a shame to be caught now, after such a long period of getting away with it.

He began to unscrew the main body from the tripod, and glanced back up at the advancing clouds. He looked down, but his head shot up again so fast his neck ached. There was a light in the sky that had not been there before. It was bright, brighter than any star should have been, _could_ have been. John's expression scrunched up in confusion, deep lines forming on his smooth, young face. What on earth was that? A tiny voice at the back of his mind chuckled, _it's a UFO, of course; did you really believe they didn't exist?_ John, ever rational, beat the thought down and began to hastily fix the main body of his telescope back on. He wanted to get a closer look. His first guess would have been a shooting star, but it was moving far too slowly, though it was by no means creeping at a snail's pace. It _was_ moving, though, and it seemed to be coming up from the southwest, moving to the east.

His gloved fingers were clumsy as he tried to reassemble the equipment, and he groaned in frustration. The thing, whatever it was, wasn't going to hang around forever. It was fast coming into line with the house, and John did not want to miss this opportunity. What if it was some kind of rare space anomaly, something that only a handful of people had ever seen before? What if he was standing on the edge of making a discovery? If only he had his camera, although from this distance, without a huge zoom, it would only seem like an unusually bright star.

Eventually, it crossed directly over in front of him, and John managed to get the telescope back together, more or less, and frantically swung it around to track the object, whatever it was. His hands worked quickly as he adjusted the two long-handled dials to move the scope, and eventually undid the clamps and let it move freely, guided by his hands, to try to catch a glimpse of the unknown _thing_ in the sky. He managed to get it in the viewer, but it was moving so fast, it escaped his vision, and he groaned again as he tried to keep up with it. When he caught it once more, he got a good look, and thought he would expire there and then. There it was, as sure as he was a Tracy: a sleek, silver bodied vessel that looked like a hybrid of a fighter jet and a space shuttle, flying across the sky in front of his eyes. It must have been _huge_.

"John?"

The voice cracked through the air like a bolt to lightning, and John jumped up, wrenching his eye from the eyepiece and swung around sharply to see who it was. The movement, however, threw him off balance, and he felt himself beginning to fall. There was nothing he could hold on to, and he went crashing down onto his back, knocking the telescope over. It fell with a smash, and he panicked more; it was surely ruined. He slid backwards so fast he barely had time to think any more, and he and the telescope pitched over the edge of the little roof, and there was nothing he could do to stop the fall. He landed on the ground heavily, and parts of the broken telescope landed on top of him. His head struck the ground, and John thought he heard something crack. Around him, tiny golden lights seemed to swirl like the most beautiful butterflies, and he lost consciousness, thinking only of the strange ship he had just seen.

---

"Why on _earth_ were you on the roof? You know you're not allowed on the roof. How could you be so stupid?"

John listened as his older brother ranted at him through the videophone, and he glanced down at his watch. Scott had been going on and on for at least ten minutes now, barely letting John get a word in. He had stopped trying to put his defence across, and was waiting for Scott to run out of steam and just shut up. He was sitting in the den, upstairs in their Kansas home, listening to his brother chew him out all the way from Yale. Weren't phones just grand? Sometimes he wished they had never been invented.

"Seriously, do you just not listen to Dad? He doesn't let us out there for a reason; we could fall and die, like you nearly did."

John groaned and shook his bandaged head slowly and carefully, to prevent himself from inflicting any more pain on his abused skull.

"I did not nearly die, Scott. You're overreacting, as usual. I got a concussion, and a broken wrist. Geez, you'd have thought I got impaled on a fence or something..."

Scott had continued to rant over him, not listening at all, and John had the feeling that until Scott got all of this anger, which was probably spurned from worry, out of his system, there was no way he was going to hear a word he said. So he let him go on; this was just Scott's way.

"Going out on the roof is a very stupid idea, especially in the winter when it gets slippery. And that's another thing, you could have got pneumonia or something. Don't think I can't hear the fact you've got a cold in your voice, mister. You can't fool me."

_'I wasn't trying to, Scotty. So you have been listening, then. Geez, you sound just like Grandma...'_ John propped his chin up with one hand as Scott kept up his tirade, although he guessed it was coming to an end; the vehemence had gone from his brother's voice, somewhat, and he knew calmness and rationality were on the horizon. As his brother's words washed over him, all John could think about was what he had seen that night. The image of the ship had occupied his mind ever since, even as his father looked at him sternly, and gave him a rather large and heavy piece of his mind. He had been sitting up in his hospital bed, with his head bandaged, half-doped with pain medication, but his father's words sunk in all the same. Jeff had, of course, not shouted at his injured son; shouting had never gotten him anywhere with any of his five recalcitrant boys, but he had made it clear that he was _not_ happy, and that this was _not_ to happen again, but he was relieved that John was pretty much okay, and hoped that this taught him a lesson -- and that fathers were always right.

But the vision of that sleek silver ship darting across the night sky haunted him, and John chewed his lip, trying to rationalise what he had seen. He hadn't told anyone about it yet; it would be an ironic about-face. John Tracy, who had denied the existence of UFOs with a frankly frighteningly strong vehemence, thought he had seen a spaceship, and had fallen off a roof in shock. Well, to be fair, he had fallen off the roof at the shock of his younger brother, Gordon, appearing at the window and calling him. What if Gordon hadn't been there, and he had been able to keep watching the, the _thing_, whatever it was, travel across the sky? Would it ever come back? Did they know he had seen them?

One possible explanation John had come up with was that it was a secret plane design the government were working on, and they could only test it in the dead of night. But that didn't seem much more likely than the theory that it was a UFO. He knew his imagination was probably getting a little bit carried away with itself; how many secret government organisations built high-tech planes and flew them over Kansas at two-thirty in the morning? He could never say for sure, but John guessed that there wouldn't exactly be many.

He snapped himself out of his reverie with a jerk, and smiled sheepishly as Scott glared at him from the small round screen in front of him.

"Have you even been listening to me?" He asked.

John's first instinct would usually have been to blag his way through an explanation, but just then, he didn't have the energy. He was too wound up in trying to figure out what it was that he had seen. Scott's expression softened at the confusion and frustration he saw on John's face, and he moved a little closer to the screen, as if he were trying to get closer to his brother, even though they were states away from one another.

"What's on your mind, John? You're usually a little more," he grinned as he got his tongue around the perfect word, "_argumentative_ than this."

John shrugged, and brought his good hand up to touch the bandage that he still had to wear around his head; the other was somewhat out of commission due to his broken wrist. Alan, in the kind personality he always adopted when one of his brothers was ill or injured, joked that John had to keep the bandage on to prevent his brains from escaping, because John had gotten too smart for his own good. John smiled a little at the memory of his little brother's attempt to comfort him, and he let his hand fall, pinning Scott with a steady gaze, and prepared to tell him the truth. The irony of the whole situation was painful; he knew he was just going to get laughed at.

"Scott, you're never going to believe me, but..." he took a steadying breath, "I saw something, just before I fell. I even got a good look at it through the telescope. It was weird, this really big, streamlined, silver _thing_. It looked like a ship or something..."

John's voice tapered off as he watched Scott's eyebrows rise sceptically, and he looked down. He knew no one would ever believe him.

"A ship? Johnny, I think you're probably just confused. You hit your head really badly when you fell. You're probably just imagining you saw it."

John shook his head, but regretted it when a dizzying pain, thick and heavy, passed over him. Scott looked at him worriedly, but he held up a hand to stop the forthcoming question.

"I'm fine. No, Scott, I'm not imagining it. I _did_ see it before I fell. I know I did."

Scott was silent for a few moments, and John had the distinct impression that he was being thoroughly examined by his older brother's bright blue eyes.

"If you really think you did... Well, I'm not going to tell you that you're wrong, but I don't exactly believe you, Johnny. I don't think I can."

"I know."

Scott shook his head, and chuckled quietly.

"I never thought I would hear something like that come out of your mouth, you know. What happened to, 'there's no such things as UFOs', huh?"

John shrugged.

"Believe me, it's not like I suddenly believe in little green men, or rock snakes from Mars or anything. Crop circles? Nah, I still think it's the work of frustrated elderly people trying to get back at the world." The two chuckled at the silly joke. "But seriously, Scott. I know what I saw. I wish I hadn't seen anything, but I did. And I'm going to be wondering about it for the rest of my life."

Scott smiled.

"Well, good luck to you." He glanced down, presumably at his watch. "I'm going to have to go now. Feel better, Johnny, and listen to what Dad says. He does know what he's talking about, sometimes."

With a smile and a wink, Scott pressed a button on his side of the phone, and the 'End Call' sign flashed up on the small screen. John ended the call on his side, and the words disappeared. He sat back and placed his good hand on the back of his head, gently fingering the soft bandaging that encircled it like a strange crown. He knew Scott wouldn't believe him; he didn't suppose anyone ever would. But, well, it didn't really matter. He knew what he had seen, and maybe, one day, he would find and explanation for it all.

---

The night breeze was pleasantly cool, and John Tracy -- now a grown man of twenty four years -- stood on the balcony of his father's villa on their tropical island, and watched the waves as they danced underneath the midnight moon. The sky was patched with thin, silvered clouds, and the stars shone brightly from the thick quilt of blackness upon which they had been set. He had been standing there, watching, for quite some time, and he knew that soon, he would have to go to bed.

Around him, the vegetation rustled as the wind sifted through the waxy leaves of the big plants, and the delicate petals of the tropical wildflowers. The insect noise had died down, but some kind of indigenous firefly still lurked around below the balcony, and he could see the tiny golden lights fluttering through the darkness below.

They reminded him of the lights he had seen when he had fallen off the roof, so many years ago, when he was still a stupid, arrogant teenager, who thought he knew better than his worldly father. He brought a hand up to gently rub at the raised scar he still had on the side of his head from the fall. It had been one painful impact; the doctors told him he had been lucky he hadn't split his skull open.

Sometimes, John still thought of what he had seen that night. The memory had become somewhat hazy with time, but he could still see that silver ship flying across the sky. Had it really been a UFO? Maybe he _had_ seen a sign of intelligent life existing somewhere else in the galaxy. He had never denied the possibility of it, but he had never believed UFOs existed, until that moment. Had it turned him into a true believer? Not really. He was still highly sceptical, but it had taught him to keep his mind open to the slightest possibility.

Across the sky, a streak of bright light flashed from west to east. John smiled; that was definitely a shooting star. He tapped the balcony rail lightly with one hand, and headed towards the sliding doors and back into the villa. He cast one last glance at the beautiful night sky, and smiled.


End file.
